


Hermione Evans and the studius interruptus

by AnneValkyria



Series: What's my line? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All are in different years, An embarrassing amount of blushing, But Regulus and Hermione are almost the same age, Gen, He gives as good as he gets, He is more like an annoying older brother, Hermione is an Evans, Hermione is young and curious, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Meet Hermione May Evans, Meet Regulus Arcturus Black, Meet Severus Tobias Snape, Regulus is young and still innocent, Snape is as Snape as Snape was at sixteen, Snape is not the love interest, Young flirting, pseudo-sibling banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:21:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29058927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneValkyria/pseuds/AnneValkyria
Summary: It was only the second week of her fourth year, and Hermione May already had to sneak away from her overbearing sister several times. It was a good thing that she had somewhere to hide. But her secret place isn’t secret for long as Severus Snape tracks her down and exposes another one of her hiding places, just as he used to do when she was younger. Only this time, he isn’t alone.
Series: What's my line? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131923
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Hermione Evans and the studius interruptus

**Beta:** GeezerWench

**Brit-picker:** Charli Petidei

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own anything recognizable herein and I have no intention of profiting on my writing.

Hermione Evans and the studius interruptus

September 1976

The moment her sister Lily disappeared between the stacks, Hermione gathered her things as quickly as she could without appearing conspicuous, and made her way towards the doors, clutching her bag to her chest. Outside the library, she paused and looked both ways, as if crossing a busy street, and when she was certain no one saw her she took off running. She flew down three flights of stairs, two steps at a time her heels clitter-clattering, until she reached the Entrance Hall, her shock of red hair coming loose from the knot tied on the crown of her head.

At the bottom of the marble staircase she took a sharp right, through the door leading towards the Slytherin dungeons, and continued until she reached the corridor leading towards the potions classroom. There she found a shortcut via a narrow passageway, turned right, then left, then right again until she came to a stop in front of thick, burgundy draperies.

She had found the hidden niche during her second year. Lily had been a right terror that night, too. It had been like the wardrobe leading into Narnia, but instead of walking straight into a fairytale, Hermione had discovered her own personal sanctuary. Besides a small hole, doubling as a window just below the high ceiling, the alcove was utterly bare. It was almost as if it wanted it that way. The only time she’d left something behind, a pillow from her bed in her dormitory, it had disappeared by the time she returned a couple of days later.

Below ground level, it was dark and dank. She had walked with a limp all that year until she learned to transfigure a few of the stones in the castle wall into a small hearth. It was still freezing, but as soon as she opened a book, she forgot about everything else, including the bone-deep chill. It was quiet and peaceful. And best of all, no one else knew about it. 

Waving her wand, Hermione drew the draperies closed behind her and pointed it at the small pile of logs. “ _Incendio_.” Soon the soothing sound of a small, bright crackling fire filled the space. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the tension leave her body. Bending at the waist, she put her hands to her knees, struggling to catch her breath.

She was a vision, with her brightly flushed skin, and her bushy curls falling loosely around her shoulders. A slow grin broke over her face. “I did it.” Hermione burst out laughing, her bright green eyes lit with joy. Her heart raced, and her stomach fluttered as if filled with a thousand butterflies.

Eventually her heart slowed to a steady beat. Hermione sat with her legs crossed and once comfortable, she removed her various study tools from her bag and placed them on the floor, organised in the order she would need them. Only then did she reach inside the inner pocket of her robes to withdraw the book of potions hidden there, a reverent expression on her face. Hermione had always teetered on the very edge, but until then she had never actually broken any rules. That particular day she broke two.

She vibrated from excitement. It didn’t just feel _good_. It felt exhilarating. She finally understood it. Why some chose to cheat, or steal, or break any of the hallowed rules people lived their life by.

Shivers of pleasure ran down Hermione’s spine from the slight rustling sound as she gently smoothed her fingertips over the fragile pages, soft like velvet in a deep white colour with just a hint of yellow. She could feel the magic bound within them. She made a mental note to one day ask what the school had done to get their hands on such a well-kept copy, unless they expelled her for the theft of it before she got the chance.

Hermione missed both lunch and supper, pausing only long enough to twist her hair into what resembled a knot, and used her wand to secure the fiery curls on the crown of her head. She forgot everything else around her as she poured over the carefully scribed words. When the last rays of sun faded from the small window, she conjured orbs of light and left them to hover about the alcove.

Rolls of parchments, a nearly empty inkwell, and a black and gold pheasant-feather quill—Hermione’s favourite—lay carelessly spread out on the ground. She had completed her potions homework, and started on the essay due at the end of term, all thanks to the book she, by all accounts, shouldn’t be in possession of.

Arithmancy proved more of a challenge than it had the previous year. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she poked her lips with the tip of her quill. She tackled every problem carefully and methodically, and before long, she had solved them as well, and then Ancient Runes was all that was left. She became completely immersed in the translations, and didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps. She would have recognised that pompous strut anywhere.

When the scuffed toes attached to a pair of heavy workers boots stepped into her line of sight, Hermione had to bite the corner of her mouth to keep from hexing him where he stood. She should have known he’d come skulking about. Blinking back tears of disappointment, she started humming, wretchedly out of tune. Without looking up from the text in her lap, she blindly searched the floor next to her for a parchment, a few stubborn tresses tore free from the knot and fell into her face while she jotted down some notes. She paused her humming to blow on the curl. By the time she’d pushed the sleeves of her robes to her elbows, it had settled back in front of her eye. The sleeves soon fell back, covering both hands, and most of the parchment as well.

“Ahem.”

Puffing out her cheeks, Hermione moved on to the next part, her humming growing in volume.

“ _Ahem_. _Ahem_.”

The deep furrow between Hermione’s eyes made a reappearance. Raising her head, eyes darting about, she stopped humming and cocked her head. Squinting, she sort of swatted at nothing and continued reading. Her lips curled with annoyance when she realised she had read the same sentence twice. She tried mouthing the words, hoping she could make more sense of it.

“Ahem-ah-hem-hem.”

Yawning widely Hermione stretched her arms above her head, she smacked her lips as if she had just woken up from a deep slumber. The movement made her sleeves drop all the way to her elbows, baring her hands to the person interrupting her as well as her fingers in the shape of a V. Knowing she wasn’t getting anything else done that night, she put the ancient runes book with the others and reached for her spoils.

“Ahem. Ahem. Ahem-hem.”

A shudder went through her and without the distraction of her studies, Hermione was reminded of how cold it was. The warmth from the small fire wasn’t nearly enough to conquer the chill. Her thin robes did nothing to protect against the moisture coming from the damp castle walls—her bum had gone numb from hours sitting on the cold, hard ground.

Severus Snape, sixth year prefect and a royal pain in Hermione’s arse, cleared his throat repeatedly until she couldn’t take it anymore. With her eyes still on the book in her lap, Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I better not catch…” she gestured limply in his general direction. “…whatever it is you have. It’s my birthday next week and I refuse to miss it on account of you infecting me with a severe case of git-itis.”

With a curtain of long, oily black hair covering half his face, Severus glowered down at her through his one visible eye, “Why must you behave like such an enormous twat?”

The side of Hermione’s lips pulled up in a mischievous half-smile. “Why must you have such an enormous nose?”

Severus stared at the ceiling as if praying for strength or for it to open and swallow him—or perhaps her—whole. “Will you stop picking on my nose?”

Hermione held up both hands in front of her, coughing and dry heaved exaggeratedly. “Don’t be vile, Sevvy.” Twisting her torso away from the books she braced herself with one hand against the wall and stuck out her tongue, retching over the floor. “I would _never_ pick your nose.”

Severus heaved a sigh of exasperation. “Must you?”

Hermione tapped a finger against her chin and pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Do I?”

“May…”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “How many times have I told you to stop calling me May?” she huffed.

Severus crossed his arms over his angular chest. “That _is_ your name.”

Hermione mimicked his nasal voice and tone. “And your nose _is_ enormous.”

A choking sound that sounded a lot like laughter came from the entrance to the alcove **.** Hermione jumped, but when she recognised the boy standing with the burgundy draperies as a backdrop, her shock changed into curiosity, but when neither he nor Severus said anything more she chose to follow their lead.

“Are you just here to piss me off or do you have some special reason? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Hermione gestured to the pile of mostly finished homework, almost toppling it over.

Severus' expression soured further. “Lily wondered where you had gone off to.”

“Of course, she was.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why did she send _you_? Why didn’t she search for me herself? Or send… let’s say” Hermione tapped a finger against her chin “… someone from her _own_ house?”

“He…” He cleared his throat. “ _She_ was busy with her own rounds. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Was it your idea to bring help?” She nodded at the boy leaning against the wall, watching them with interest. “Or was it a requirement?”

With a frustrated groan, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lily told me you had changed,” he encompassed all of her with a sweep of his arm. “She forgot to mention to what extent.”

“They’re called breasts, Sevvy. I’m sure you’ve heard about them.” Hermione’s curves had appeared during the summer, she woke one morning and there they were, at least that was how it seemed at the time. “As a matter of fact, I’m certain I caught you the other day, staring at Lily’s.” She rolled her eyes and grumbled, “I can’t for the life of me understand why.”

An unflattering puce spread up his neck and coloured the sallow skin on his cheeks. “That is not what I meant, as you are well aware.”

“Oh, you mean these,” Hermione ran her tongue over her perfectly straight teeth. “Aren't they lovely? It was an early birthday present from Mum and Dad. They took me to St Mungo’s the week before school started.”

A muscle ticked in Severus’ cheek. “You are _entirely_ insufferable.”

“Yes.” With that Hermione took the book and held it up in front of her, hiding behind the blackened cover, surely putting an end to their conversation. Although the test of time hadn’t been as forgiving as with its pages **,** the title was clearly visible on the leather. She realised her mistake seconds too late.

Severus drew his wand from its holster and pointed it at Hermione. “How. Did. You. Get. That. _Book?_ ”

Hermione lowered the book until her eyes were visible over the top. “Would you believe me if I said I found it?”

“No.” He ground his molars together. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

“What?” Hermione sputtered. “Are you serious? For borrowing a book?”

“ _Stealing_ a book,” Severus corrected with an air of pretentiousness **.** “A book you are not even supposed to read.”

“It’s really all Professor Slughorn’s fault,” Hermione defended herself. “I thought there was an unspoken agreement between teachers to ease us into the new term, but I reckon Ol’ Sluggy missed the owl on that. It’s the second week, and he’s already assigned us an essay a mile long.”

Still holding her at wand-point, Severus glowered. “Don’t. Be so dramatic.”

“I’m not.” Not entirely. Ten inches may not be a mile, but for the second week of school it might as well be. Hermione loved to study, and she loved her classes, just not the first month of them. If she could have skipped right over to October, she happily would. Even if it meant missing her birthday. “He’s your head of house. Is it not your job as a prefect to keep him in line?”

“No.” Severus groused. “It _is,_ however, my _job_ to keep the likes of you from destroying school property.”

“Oi.” Hermione bristled “You’re crazy, you are. I would _never_.”

“It has happened before.”

Hermione jut out her chin and without thinking she snapped, “So has your face.”

Severus reached down with his other hand, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and pulled her to her feet. The book fell soundlessly to the floor.

He drew his wand arm backwards, elbow out, and for one horrendous moment Hermione thought he was going to hit her. And she wasn’t the only one. A movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The boy had taken a step closer to them, his face clouded by concern. She offered him a small, reassuring smile. She stretched to her full one-hundred-and-sixty-eight centimetres—heels included—and wagged her finger in Severus’ face. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

With a pointed stare, Severus took her hand in his and held it out for her. “What. Do you call. This?”

Hermione growled her annoyance before giving in. She gasped. “Oh. Oh, no.” The ink had reached from her palm, all the way underneath her thumbnail. Severus let her go and took a step back. With her heart lodged in her throat, Hermione dove for the book. Quickly, but yet carefully, she leafed through the pages she had already read. Finding them empty of extraneous ink, she breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled to stand, clutching it to her chest. She closed her eyes, and mumbled, more to herself than to him. “I will get you for that.”

Severus began laughing. “What are you going to do?” he asked, tauntingly. “Hex me? With what? You’re not even holding your wand.” He tsked.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and whispered, “ _Flipendo_.”

As if pushed by an invisible force, Severus staggered a few steps backwards. His mouth dropped open, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. He stammered, “H-how?” and lowered his wand.

Hermione cocked her hip and managed a smug smile. “You were saying?” On the inside, she was as shocked as he was. She read everything she had found about wandless magic the year before and practiced every chance she got. There had been no results, until that moment.

Severus tugged at the collar of his robes. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, “Do…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Do your studying in the library from now on.”

Hermione barely refrained from stomping her foot. “Do I have to? I hate it there.”

“You don’t like the library?” came a deep, yet soft voice from the direction of the entrance.

It was hard to tell who was more surprised by the question, Hermione, or Regulus himself.

Regulus, the younger of the Black brothers. Hermione had seen him around school; in the Great Hall, or at the Quidditch pitch during a Slytherin match. This was the first time she was close enough to get a good look at him. And look she did.

The Black brothers were similar in appearance, colouring and posture. It was easy to see that they were related. It was the small things that set them apart. Regulus had fuller lips, giving him that natural pouty look Sirius so desperately strived for. He wore his hair in a low ponytail, tied at the nape, with a few black wisps curling at his temples. Regulus was the taller one, and not as stocky as Sirius, but Hermione had noticed how well his seeker uniform stretched over his well-defined chest. Whereas Sirius wore his heart on his sleeve, Regulus was much more reserved, more careful, quieter. He came across as cold to some, but there was nothing cold about the way she felt when she watched him. As she continued her close scrutiny, Hermione found herself caught in his grey eyes. They were beautiful. They were… gazing into hers.

Realising she hadn’t been the only one staring brought warmth to her cheeks, and she had to force herself to look away. It made her feel strange; it was a little frightening and she didn't understand what it meant. Did she fancy him? ‘ _I better not_ ,’ she thought to herself. It would mean that she cared. Cared what he thought of her. Cared if he fancied her back. No, it would lead to too many complications, she decided. She didn’t have to imagine what Lily would have to say about it, and what about Sirius? No. It was better if she didn't fancy him at all. She fastened her eyes an inch or so above his eyebrows and hoped her face hadn’t taken on the colour of the draperies. “I have nothing against libraries.” She corrected him. “I care little for bossy sisters, lecherous sixth years, and stuffy librarians.” She turned to Severus. “What's he even doing here?” she asked, her frazzled nerves made her sound ruder than she meant to.

“He's. With me,” Severus said nasally.

Unable to resist getting another dig in, Hermione let out a sharp whistle. “Do you mean, _with_ you, with you?” She waggled her brows just in case the emphasis on _with_ wasn’t clear enough.

Severus scowled. “Would you keep your filthy thoughts to yourself? Regulus is a prefect. Like me.”

“Oh,” Hermione chanced another glance at Regulus, this time noticing the shiny prefect badge pinned to the right side of his tailor-made robes. “I didn’t realise, he seems so _normal_.”

Severus sneered. “Give me the book,” he ordered, his spindly fingers grabbing at the air. “I’ll return it to Madam Pince after I finish my rounds.”

“Why should I trust you?” Hermione asked innocently, trying not to smile.

Severus straightened his back, a rare half smile teasing his mouth. With one perfectly arched brow he stared at her down the length of his hooked nose “They made me a prefect after all.”

“I don’t know….” Hermione pursed her lips and tapped her finger against her chin. “I heard they lowered their standards this year...” She eyed him up and down. “Considerably.”

Regulus' amused snort was met by one pair of fuming black eyes, and one pair of green, full of the same humour as his slate grey ones.

With a derisive click of his tongue, Severus held out his hand. “Give. Me. The book,” he demanded.

Hermione easily sidestepped his hand. “Say _please_ ,” she said in a sing-song voice. She turned on her heels and twirled around and around and around until the whole alcove was spinning. Dizzy and disoriented, she stumbled and started falling. Bracing for impact, Hermione screwed her eyes closed, but before she hit the ground, someone grabbed hold of her elbows and helped her to her feet. She looked up, expecting to meet Severus' triumphant sneer, but was instead met by warm greys, filled with concern. Heat spread over her skin. She mouthed, “Thank you,” and backed away. His touch left goosebumps in its wake.

“This is bloody ridiculous,” Severus harrumphed and reached behind her back, plucking the book from her hands.

“Oi,” Hermione called out. “Give it back.” When she tried to take it from him, he laughed and held it just out of reach. Bending at the knees, she jumped, but he raised his arms again. She pushed out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. Even gave it a good wobble. “You are no fun.”

“And you…” He withdrew an old pocket watch—a birthday present from Lily—from his robes. “… are late for curfew.”

“Blast. Let me see that.” Pushing herself up onto the pointed toes of her black leather Victorian-style laced ankle boots, Hermione hung on the arm holding the watch to get a closer look **.** “No, see.” She put her finger to the glass, “There is fifteen minutes left.”

Severus sniggered. “You would like to see you try. As a matter of fact…” He paced around the alcove, his long legs taking him from one side to the other in two steps. “I reckon we will escort you back to your dorms. That way I can see you try, and inevitably fail.” He stopped in front of Regulus. “What do you say, Black? You have nothing better to do, do you?”

Regulus shrugged. “Nothing that cannot wait.”

Hermione’s mouth took the shape of an ‘o’ and her eyes shone as an idea came to her. “What happens if you’re right?” she asked.

“It will be another twenty points from your house, not counting the theft, of course.”

Hermione gaped. “Twenty? How did you come to that conclusion?”

“The extra ten is for insolence,” Severus said, smugly.

“But what if you’re wrong? What if I can get back to my house without receiving punishment? What then?”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and smiled with confidence “I won’t be.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “But what if you _are_?” she insisted.

“If you make it back without being reprimanded, I… Hmmm…. I will give you back the ten points you already lost.” He shifted a little until he faced them both, and asked, “Does that sound fair to the two of you?”

Hermione pressed her lips together to hide her triumphant grin. “I see no problems with that, do you?” she asked Regulus.

Being almost a head taller, Regulus towered over her, suspicion in his grey eyes. He knew she was up to something. “No, no problem.”

The sodden fabric clung uncomfortably to her back. Absentmindedly, Hermione scratched at her shoulder. “Good.” She squirmed. “I’m just going to…” Twisting her torso, she tried to reach a spot on her back, and cursed her short arms, quite colourfully **,** when she couldn’t.

Severus sighed impatiently. “If this is another poor attempt to get yourself out of...”

Arching her back, and undulating her hips Hermine grumbled, “Oh, bugger…” With a frustrated shout she disrobed and handed them over to Severus, “Here,” she said. “Hold this.” Then, without preamble, she nabbed the wand out of his hand and used it to scratch that elusive, hard-to-reach place just underneath her shoulder blade. “Ah.” Hermione moaned and lowered her head until her chin grazed the collar of her oxford. “Ah, _yes_.” The sounds of pleasure ended in a lengthy groan.

Severus blanched, “Give it here,” he snapped and ripped the thirteen-inch blackthorn out of her hands. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing.”

“Hmm?” Hermione smiled lazily, her eyes hooded. “Oh… Oh!” Her smile dropped and red, darker than the colour of her hair, crept up her neck. “I didn’t… Uh…” She stuttered. “Oh, bollocks.” Covering her face with her hands, she shook with body-wracking sobs.

With matching bemused expressions, the boys hesitated before stepping closer, unsure how to handle a hysterical witch.

Severus was the first to reach out for her, his arms hovered awkwardly in front of Hermione when she unexpectedly threw her head back and let out loud peals of laughter.

“Oh, my god,” Hermione wheezed between giggles. “I’m so sorry.” A single tear trickled down her rosy cheeks. “You see…” she tried to explain between gasps for air. “… robes… sodden… walls… there… itch….”

Palming his forehead, Severus pleaded, “Please, stop,” sounding pained. “If you wish to keep your points, we must leave. Now.”

As Hermione bent at the waist to collect her books, she felt a sudden chill at the small of her back. She heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced behind her to find Regulus staring at the exposed sliver of skin where her shirt had come loose from her school skirt. Their eyes met, and another wave of heat washed over her, and she cursed her fair complexion, certain her embarrassment was clear on her skin.

Clearing his throat, Regulus moved to help her gather the last of her things, and place them in her bookbag. Wordlessly, he took the bag from her hands and hung it on his own shoulder.

Flustered, Hermione pulled her wand from her knot of hair and cast an extinguishing charm on the fire. She shook her head and felt her bushy mane of hair tumble down her back in unruly waves. Her stomach growled obnoxiously loudly, reminding her that she’d missed both lunch and supper.

As if to make matters worse, Severus took that moment to notice the condition of her clothing. “What. Are you. Wearing?” he asked, completely scandalised.

Until then Hermione had forgotten about the alterations to her school uniform. She had wanted to see Lily lose it in the library, but had lost her nerve at the last second. Her Oxford shirt was unbuttoned almost all the way down to her navel, making it clear that she wasn’t wearing a brasserie underneath. Her unknotted tie framed the deep cleavage in scarlet and gold, and she had rolled up the hemline of her school skirt so it ended just below her bum, leaving her thighs bared to their eyes.

“Does Lily know her sister dresses like some common… slag?” Severus sputtered.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione raised her wand, “Finite incantatem.” In the blink of an eye everything but the length of her skirt had returned to the regulated uniform. If they let on they noticed, neither boy acknowledged it, but for different reasons.

“A glamour?” Severus asked, surprised.

Yes,” Hermione pointed a finger at his face, “and you should have known. How many times have you seen me in my bathing suit?”

“I haven’t been looking,” he said quite defensively. He practically threw her robes back at her. “I’m not an elf.”

“The freckles,” Regulus blurted before Hermione could lay into Severus for what she saw as taking advantage of the poor elves. “I mean…” The apples of his cheeks painted a bright pink and he pushed his hands into the pockets of his black trousers. The fabric stretched tantalisingly over his thighs and drew attention to somewhere a little below the belt. “Because of, uh…there were none...” He nodded to her face and neck, and the smattering of light brown dots. “Umm…”

Hermione had to force herself to keep her eyes on his green and silver tie. “Right. Well… Ahem…”

They took their time on their way back (towards the Entrance Hall). At that late hour, an odd stillness reigned in the castle, the three of them were the only ones out and about.

The flickering light from the wall sconces danced over their faces as they passed underneath them. They walked in silence, in no hurry to get there. Regulus even slowed his much longer steps to match hers. The closer they got to her dorms the more desperate Hermione felt for something to say, before they went their separate ways and to never meet again. With neither classes nor mates in common, the fear was not entirely without grounds. Just as she was about to open her mouth and say whatever came to mind, Regulus spoke.

“Your birthday is next week” he said, more of a statement than a question.

Hermione nodded. “Uh-huh.” Feeling unusually shy she kept her eyes straight ahead. “Yes. I turn fifteen next Sunday.”

She searched for something more to say, but once again Regulus was faster. “Will you be doing anything special?”

“Oh, I…” She stole a quick glance, and noticed him staring at her mouth for the second time that evening, and suddenly Hermione found it difficult to walk and talk at the same time. She stumbled on her feet, but Regulus was there to stop her from falling by taking a hold of her hands. Her breathing hitched as she got caught in his eyes, and she forgot what they were talking about. They stood so close she felt his breath on her face, the smell of pumpkin juice, and something minty went straight to her head.

Severus grouched about something, but Hermione couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in her ears.

Regulus brushed his thumb over her knuckles, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Are you all right?”

The flutter in her belly was back. “Yes.” To hide how her face burned, Hermione looked down at their hands, and marvelled at how small hers looked enclasped in his. His fingernails were perfectly manicured while hers showed signs of being cut by garden shears.

When it became evident that she wouldn’t answer, Regulus repeated his question. “Will you be doing anything special for your birthday?”

Hermione blinked, “Oh, right. Yes. My housemates are throwing me a party.” She beamed. “It’s going to be great. We will listen to music, gorge on Honeydukes finest, and all the butterbeer we can drink. I’m sure we will get sick to our stomachs.” She remembered something, and her eyes widened with excitement. “I overheard the boys saying they’d get their hands on a couple of bottles of fire whiskey.”

Severus’ nasaly voice cut in, “Any and all consummation of alcoholic beverages at school is strictly prohibited.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You ought to pull that broom out of your arse, Sevvy, before you have to surgically remove it.” Grinning, she added. “Oh, and surgically means….”

“I know what it means,” Severus sneered.

Hermione raised her hands, still holding Regulus’ and clapped. “Well done. Ten points to Slytherin.”

“You truly are utterly insufferable,” Severus sulked.

“And you are such a killjoy.” Letting go of Regulus, she moved away from him and over to Severus. “Don’t you ever have fun, Sevvy? You remember fun, don’t you? F…. U…”

Severus shot her a quizzical look, “N?”

“Nope,” she said, smacking her lips, making the p ‘pop’.

Severus stewed, but before he could come up with a scathing rebuttal, Regulus clapped his hand on his shoulder, “Let us bring the princess back to her tower. I don’t know about you, but I have some revising to do before light’s out.”

With a terse wave, Severus urged them forward, and soon thereafter they arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor common room. 

The Fat Lady was off visiting and didn’t appreciate being disturbed. But when she saw Hermione standing outside the door she lit up, “Well, if it isn’t young Miss Evans. What are you doing up this late, and with two strapping young men at your side?” She gave Hermione a conspiratorial wink. “Have you been off stirring up trouble again?”

“I would never stir up trouble, Lady,” Hermione said. “You know I’m as good as gold.”

The Fat Lady laughed heartily. “Oh, you jest, my child.” She chuckled for a good minute, then turned a stern glare on Hermione. “You are ten minutes past curfew,” she tutted with a moue of disappointment.

Exaggerating her remorse, Hermione hung her head. “Yes, I know, and it’s no one’s fault but mine. I got caught up in my studies and forgot about the time.” The mischievous glint was back in her green eyes. “Thank Merlin prefects Snape and Black offered to escort me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, loud enough for the boys—one furious, the other fascinated—standing behind her to hear. “We really can’t afford to lose more points. Especially since you know who, did you know what, you know where.”

Shaking her head the Lady snickered. “Those boys. They will never learn.”

“They surely won’t.” Grinning widely, Hermione faced the boys again.

Reluctantly impressed by her trick, Severus raised his chin, and with a last thin-lipped smile, he headed towards the library.

“Accio book.” The book flew out of his pocket and into Hermione’s hand.

Severus froze, then spun around, staring at her.

Hermione shrugged. “A little light reading. I’ll return it first thing in the morning. You trust me, don’t you, Sevvy?”

With a tired snort Severus continued walking, before disappearing behind the corner. “You got me this time, May, but I’ll get you, eventually.” He lifted his arm and waved his fingers.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Regulus slid off her bag and held it open for her to deposit the book amongst the rest of her things. Pushing back her hair, careful not to snag on the bushy mass, he then transferred it onto her shoulder and adjusted it until it hung just so.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, nervously twirling a loose curl around her finger.

“So….” He started, scraping the toe of his dragon hide boot against the stones.

“So…” Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Hermione pulled her shoulders to her ears. She tried to come up with something brilliant to say. Something that would establish a connection between them, so she wouldn’t feel like quite the twit when she greeted him as they passed in the corridors. Maybe they could even be mates one day. The house rivalry and prejudice didn’t have to concern them. They could be above all that and just be.

“I need the password if I’m going to let you in, dearie.” The Lady interrupted. “I’m missing all the good gossip.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned her back to Regulus and leaned forward so she could whisper it in the Lady’s ear. The door opened with a muted creak, and with a rushed, “Be a dear and close it behind you,” the Lady was off to her visit.

They were alone.

Regulus closed the few inches separating them and took her hand in his. With eyes like molten silver, he bent and pressed his soft lips to the back of her hand, his heated gaze never leaving hers. “Good night, Evans.” And with that he started in the direction Severus had disappeared to.

A shiver ran through her, “Good night,” she breathed and backed into the opened doorway. Watching him leave she touched her fingers to the spot still tingling from the brief kiss and realised she wasn’t ready for him to leave. Before her brain caught up she cupped her hands around her mouth and whisper-yelled (his name). “Hey, Black.”

He came to an abrupt stop and peered over his shoulder at her. “Yes?”

“Your brother is a right arse.”

His face was cast in shadows, but she was certain she heard a smile in his voice. “I believe _that_ is common knowledge.”

“Good night,” she said again.

“Good night.”

Then he was gone. “Good night,” Hermione whispered again with a sigh as she closed the door behind her, deciding that maybe she cared a little bit after all.

**Thank you for reading**

  * Knockback Jinx-Flipendo-Knocks opponent over



Original quotes:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Season 4 episode 4, Fear, Itself.

Oz : Oh, Xander's a civilian.   
Frat Guy : Ah, townie, huh? Didn't know. Looked so normal.

Greek, Season 1 episode 19, No Campus For Old Rules

Cappie: That’s because the Kappa Tau’s still remember what it’s like to have fun. You know fun, Evs? F. U.

Evans: N?

Cappie: No. That’s it.

Tania Jacquier on FB helped with Hermione’s show description. The original suggestion: Black leather Victorian-style laced ankle boots, with a small heel and pointed toe 

**Author's Note:**

> This is not supposed to stand alone, but be part of something bigger. Hopefully, one day it will. Now I’m off to try my hand on another pairing. Toodles.


End file.
